The Tale of Melilaurë and Mélaurel by Iavalir

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Part Three

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Thankfully, there were none which Maglor could find in the stronghold. He waited until he saw Gildor’s large form in the doorway. Then grabbing his arm he led him through the maze towards his quarters.

“There is always the chance that one of my servants remained behind,” Maglor said. “It will be best if we entered by way of the back.”

“And why are we being secretive?” Gildor asked with a smile.

Maglor chuckled. “Just in case.” Gildor winked. He led Gildor not through the hall of his servants but up a flight of stairs situated in the other side of the stronghold. Without taking a peak through the other door, Maglor rushed Gildor into his quarters and locked the door.

“Very secretive indeed,” Gildor said, laughing heartedly.

“I wish for none to think ill of us,” Maglor said, though he felt a slight tingle at the thought of being truly alone with Gildor for the first time.

“And why would they think that?” Gildor said, but his sly grin betrayed his thoughts.

Laughing, Maglor pushed through Gildor, crying out, “Ai, you tease me cruelly! Come with me - the music room is right here.”

Gildor settled himself where Maglor indicated, and he studied about himself in genuine interest.

“It is very beautiful here,” he said. “Conductive to creativity.”

“It could be more pleasant,” Maglor said. “More windows, like in Finlaurë’s house. Overlooking the sea.” He settled down before Gildor with the lute nestled in his lap. “Now what to play first for my lovely audience?”

“Your favorite,” Gildor said. “Show me what you can do with that instrument.”

Maglor’s fingers slowly glazed over the neck of the lute, smiling as he studied Gildor’s face. “I believe I found my first song.” The song he sang first spoke of his travels with family as an elfling to the forests and valleys of Valinor, of the great light that basked his world and the love and comfort which were plentiful. This Maglor sang with his eyes closed, as he had done before at the wedding ceremony, and when he opened them but briefly he could see Gildor hanging on to his every word. Though he was not one to show off his talent, no matter how much his music was renowned and cherished among the Eldar, he felt a sudden urge to display his talents at their fullest. Song and after song he went through, filling the room with his mighty voice until at last he grew weary of playing.

When he opened his eyes it was to find Gildor was leaning just inches from him. “I…must have gotten a little carried away,” he said.

“They were all very beautiful,” Gildor said as he peered into his eyes. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with his smile. “Very beautiful. You wrote all of these songs?”

“Not all,” Maglor said. “Some I, ah, made up as I went along.”

“Truly? That is a real talent indeed, Makalaurë.”

“I follow my heart and fëa,” Maglor said.

“It is a very passionate fëa then.”

“Aye, and full of desire, though not for music right now.” Maglor glanced away.

“Then what?” He felt Gildor lean closer.

“You are teasing me again!”

“How so? What does your fëa yearn for?”

Maglor turned around and they shared a smile, both just a mere inch apart. He leaned forward and shyly kissed Gildor on his cheek. “You, silly elf.” They closed the space between them, their mouths meeting. First a chaste kiss, then slowly, deeper it went until they were lost in the fiery, needy kiss. Gently Gildor slid the lute from Maglor’s hand and set it down at the table next to them; now with hands free Maglor brought them to Gildor’s chest, gently rubbing him around his nipples.

All too suddenly, Maglor pulled away from him. “To my room, please,” he begged gently.

Gildor nodded. “I was about to suggest the same.”

With a trembling hand Maglor clasped his and led him to his rooms. He studied about himself, his heart hammering at the thought of what was about to take place. “Perhaps we should change out of this,” he said. Before he could reach for his robe, he felt Gildor’s hands on his shoulders, and with one tug his outer robes slid down. Smiling though nervous, Maglor helped with ridding himself out of the overly frivolous robes. When he turned back around it was to find Gildor had already stripped himself nude during the time when he was looking about his room.

“Eager, aren’t we,” Maglor teased before making his way to his bed. How weird it felt to walk like this before another. He was suddenly aware of how the skin of his thighs rubbed against each other, of his testicles and penis bobbling slightly between his legs as he walked. Of the gentle breeze against his warm body and how he could feel Gildor’s eyes feasting on his body…

He plopped onto his bed, and shyly looked up at Gildor before leaning back and sliding his legs open as offering. “Why do you remain standing there?”

“I am still a servant here under your roof,” Gildor said.

“Come,” he commanded, fighting with himself not to stare too much at Gildor’s body.

“Yes, my lord,” Gildor said. He leaned over Maglor, kissing him. “So shy and polite for a prince! Does your fëa not yearn for us?”

“It is not an area I am comfortably versed in,” Maglor said. “But yes. I want you. Since the days of my visit in Alqualondë. I yearned for you, your touch, to feel your own fëa fused with mine, to feel you fused with me.” They kissed.

“That is my wish as well,” Gildor said. He motioned for Maglor to lean back, fully exposed and vulnerable in this position. “I hope I am not too heavy for you.” He brought his lips to Maglor’s neck, electing a soft moan from the prince. His fingers slipped into with Gildor’s hair, carefully playing with the braids until they came undone; he was rewarded by feeling Gildor’s hair slide over his shoulders and tickling Maglor’s nipples. He gave a small gasp of delight.

“Does everything excite you, beloved?” Gildor said.

“Everything from you excites me,” Maglor said. He playfully rubbed at Gildor’s nipple with one thumb, watching his love’s own reaction at his touch. “And it seems the same is true for you.”

Gildor met his lips again, though it lasted shorter than he would have liked. “Close your eyes,” Gildor said.

“Ordering a prince now?” Maglor said, but he did as he was told. Immediately he did not regret his decision, as the touches now were more pronounced, and mot knowing where Gildor would kiss next only excited him further. He felt Gildor kiss down his neck as his hands kneaded his shoulders before roaming down to his nipples. A wet hot tongue flicked across them, and he shivered, feeling the slightly cool air against his nipples moisten from Gildor’s lips. The kisses traveled downward, to his stomach where Maglor next felt the warm tongue dip into his navel, tickling him and sending heated sparks through his body. Whimpering, he squirmed underneath Gildor.

“Please - I am too sensitive there!” Maglor cried out softly, his fingers squeezing Gildor’s shoulders.

Gildor kissed him right below his navel. “You are giving me weapons to slay you with, my lord.”

“Ai, you have slain me already,” Maglor said, gasping. “And you must call me Makalaurë!” He felt Gildor slide over him once more, meeting his lips.

“Anything you say, my lord Makalaurë,” Gildor said, his amusement clear in his voice. Gildor laid kisses over Maglor’s face, cheeks, and right below his ear, nibbling playfully at the lobes, before trailing his way back to his neck. As he did this, Maglor drew circles over Gildor’s back, pulling him close and grinding his body against his. He felt their erections pressed together and moaned as he felt a hand wrap around them, stroking them together. Another hand he felt close to touching his cheek, and gripping it he brought the fingers closer, sucking on them to match the rhythm of the attention Gildor was giving their erections.

His eyes opened and noticed the loving and hungry look Gildor was giving him as his hands continued to work them close to completion. Maglor peered into his eyes as he continued sucking on his finger, coating them with his saliva. Gildor’s other hand suddenly stopped, and instead he brought it up to cup Maglor’s cheek. Gently he slipped his slick fingers from Maglor’s mouth.

“Do you wish for this?” he asked.

Maglor nodded as he swung on leg over Gildor’s hip. “Aye. You are the one slaying me, remember?”

He nestled against Gildor’s chest as he felt the first penetration by a finger. Each of Gildor’s heartbeat was felt, rather than heard, and Maglor realized then that their fëa had already begun to fuse together.

A sudden pain brought out a cry.

“Ai, forgive me!” Gildor held him against his broad chest as he quickly slipped his finger out. “I did not mean to hurt you!”

“That is fine,” Maglor mumbled. He kissed a spot on Gildor’s chest right over his heart. “Perhaps another position would be better?”

They shifted till Maglor was flat on his stomach, his legs spread, with Gildor right on top. He kissed and teased the prince with his lips and tongue while his hand worked on making him comfortable. On this went, with Maglor gently rocking to get his body comfortable with the act, allowing himself to enjoy each finger, each stroke inside his body. Gildor explored inside him, finding more areas that made him squirm.

“It feels so strange and wet there,” Maglor commented, unable to stop himself from laughing. His giggles intensified as he felt more liquid suddenly against his opening.

“I believe you are seeking to destroy the mood, my lord,” he heard Gildor’s amused response.

“Ai, I am sorry, Elenaurel!”

“I am enjoying this!”

When at last Maglor’s body had become accustomed and was well coated with a mix of saliva and semen, Gildor placed a pillow under Maglor’s hips, prepping him up. As Gildor entered him, Maglor gripped the bedsheets, easing himself into it. As big as Gildor’s erection had already appeared to Maglor, it was no where to how he suddenly felt inside. He was being stretched till he did not think it was possible. Yet there was no pain, only the momentary surprise at how filled and incredible it felt.

“Are you doing well, Makalaurë?” came Gildor’s husky question, whispered tenderly in his ear.

Maglor moved slightly to allow more of his mate inside. “Aye - aye!”

Gildor was only able to slowly thrust a few times before Maglor gave a pained gasp. “I am sorry! I am ruining everything!”

“Do not be distressed!” Gildor kissed him. “I daresay it would be harder if it were me. Come, let us try for another position.” He kicked the pillow aside and guided Maglor to another position before penetrating him once more. They experimented with several positions, moving slow and steady till Maglor found a position that brought him the greatest ecstasy. He rested on his side, his back pressed against Gildor’s chest, while one leg was raised slightly to allow for the other elf to thrust into him at a steady pace. One large hand held Maglor protectively on his stomach. This position was good for them both, Gildor thought, for he could enjoy the sight of his lover’s erection and feel Maglor’s body squirming against him, and it was easy for their lips to meet.

How long they remained as such, none were certain and neither cared. They moved slowly, savoring each ripple of pleasure that consumed them both at once. Their fëar, they both felt, had merged into each other. Maglor’s begs were now felt inside Gildor, rather than heard, or perhaps it was just his own mind playing tricks on him as their lovemaking steadily quickened to a fast tempo. Yet there was no denying the strange intensity that overtook both of their bodies. Each heartbeat and each breath came in unison. Their bodies moved in harmony, legs and arms entangled just as their fëar were, together reaching their climax.

Gildor’s hand slid from its position on Maglor’s stomach and gripped his cock, pleasuring him. Maglor took hold of his free hand, tangling their fingers together. He kissed his hand and repeatedly and gently bit him. His other hand slid back to roam over Gildor’s side, but it was not easy for him to keep this position, and he resorted to anchoring himself on the bed.

Communication was now exchanged through their minds, though it was not by words but with emotion - yet it was clear and vivid and intoxicating to them both. Their declaration of their love and devotion, their vow to be one, all announced in their mind, body, and spirit their reached the apex of their shared bliss.

“Ai, Elenaurel…” came Maglor’s suddenly soft cry, almost a whisper, and Gildor felt when Maglor hit his climax. Maglor fell forward, burying his face in the pillow; his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth flew open as if to cry out, but no sound came. He rocked against Gildor’s body, and when he raised his face, Gildor could see the bliss cross on his love’s face as his body rode on the wave of his orgasm. Gildor could feel all of Maglor’s joy deep within himself mingled with his own approaching orgasm, which left him shuddering on top of Maglor until the two were collapsed on the bed, catching their breaths. Gildor brought up his hand filled with his love’s nectar.

“Look,” he said in Maglor’s ear. Maglor tentatively opened one eye, studying the pearly white nectar before hungrily bringing Gildor’s hand to his mouth. He lapped at his own essence before kissing Gildor feverishly. “Mine,” he said repeatedly. “Mine. Mine.”

Sleep was fast coming over him. Gildor guided him to sleep before taking a towel and wiping as much as he could of their essence before finally slipping under the covers besides Maglor. Like this they remained until their bodies recuperated from the intense ordeal of the union of hröar and fëar.

It was Maglor who woke first. A sense of great happiness was upon him, and he smiled broadly as he studied the ceiling, for the first time finding beauty in his new home of Formenos. He turned around to study Gildor beside him.

Even in sleep Gildor smiled, looking as peaceful as ever. Maglor would have laughed. Did he always smile, even while relieving himself, Maglor wondered cheekily. But his optimism was one of the things that attracted Maglor to him. Unlike the other elves as well as his large build. Whereas most elves were tall and slim, Gildor was tall and board-shouldered, and up close Maglor studied his strange physique in mesmerization.

“He could carry me easily as if I were a toy,” Maglor thought. “My husband is strong in body but very handsome.” But the bright thought darkened as the realization dawned on him on what he had done, to have bonded with a servant without first the blessing of one’s father and mother would stir such a dire scandal should any learn of it. Worse still was that his bonding with Gildor could easily be detected, for an Eldar had only to peer into the eyes of another to see if they were taken by another.

“What have I done, to be so weak as to surrender to my own body’s desire?” he wondered.

“Melilaurë?” came a soft voice as Gildor raised his head, and Maglor jumped at hearing his husband’s epessë for him. Clearly he held none of Maglor’s worries, yet he studied Maglor’s face with concern for him. “I felt the distress inside you. How do you fare, beloved?”

Maglor related to him of his fear as Gildor held him close.

“The past cannot be changed,” Gildor said, “and our fëar would have eventually seen to our union. There is naught we can do save to live our lives as we have before.”

“And to love in secret,” Maglor said. “It is not how I envisioned my future would be.”

“Seldom can we predict our future,” Gildor said.

Maglor leaned back to study him. “How long have we been away from the others?” Somehow it seemed like they were away for years, taking advantage of what time they could have together in secret. And how foolish it all was in the end! He was still a prince, and Gildor still a servant who was led into an elf lord’s bed. He had no business to offer advice to one of higher status, or indeed to touch him as he had done. But it was by Maglor’s own doing that the line was blurred, and finally realizing the full extent of implications of their act, a wall seemed to have suddenly formed between them.

“Your lord will be looking for you,” Maglor said, hating how hard his voice was. “Go.”

Gildor bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.” He slipped out of bed before turning to Maglor again. “Ah, I…haven’t fully washed after-”

Maglor shook his head. “Go.”

Nodding, Gildor quickly dressed before departing without another word. When Maglor heard the front door of his quarters close shut behind Gildor, no longer could he stop the tears.

He glanced about himself and noted the mess on the bedsheets, and he pulled on his hair and wept. Soon his servants would come and see the evidence of his deeds. He considered filling the bucket in the washroom from the faucet and drenching the bedsheets, but there would be questions. He needed something else to distract them.

Then the idea came to him. After he washed himself completely in the bath, he kept the bucket filled with water. From his kitchen he produced a small knife, and with it he cut himself deeper than was enough to draw blood over his bedsheets. Immediately following this was some water from the bucket. Maglor scarped the parts of the blanket until most of the semen was well enough disguised in the greater mess he had created.

Dressing himself in a simple robe, he stepped out and cried out for a servant.

“What has happened to you?” one of them exclaimed as she studied the blood still dripping from Maglor’s arm.

“I was bathing, and upon my return to my rooms and I slipped and cut myself over my bed,” Maglor said. He was rushed to have a healer look at him while his bedsheets were washed. He was glad for the distraction though he worried someone would notice the other stains on the bedsheets. But fortunately, none noticed, for all attention was on Maglor and his injury.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent with him working up the courage to leave his rooms. He dined with the servants and sang with them, reveling in the joys of being among those who he knew all his life. But he knew soon he would have to leave to congratulate Caranthir on his wedding, which meant a greater chance of bumping into Gildor.

Their bond was such that Maglor felt him everywhere: as he spoke with his mother or sat quietly in the music room to compose. Their bond had created a continual connection between them. Even in this distance Maglor knew how Gildor felt, and it almost annoyed him to know that the damn elf was still as cheery as ever. But the annoyance disappeared throughout the day, replaced with a deep longing and sorrow as the light of the trees turned from gold to silver and gold again and Maglor saw nothing of his husband. He thought the absence would be met with relief, to take a much-needed break. But the bonding was still too new, and his body still yearned for his touch, or just to be in his arms. Looking at his brother Caranthir only made his pain worse. This was a time for the couple to take delight in their bonding, yet here he was hiding what should have been cherished and celebrated.

Finally, he made his decision. With effort he located Finrod, trusting that Gildor will not be far behind.

“Linlaurë!” Finrod called out, embracing him. “How many blooms of the trees have passed before seeing you!”

“Forgive me,” Maglor said. “It was most impolite of me to not see you after my brother’s wedding!”

“Well, it would not have been possible to meet,” Finrod said. “The firstborns of every son of our haru have been called to meeting, and so it has been ever since the wedding.”

Maglor nodded in understanding. “It seems my father is not wasting any time to bring forth this issue about our haru’s circlet. I am sorry, Finlaurë.”

“It is no problem,” Finrod said, studying Maglor’s eyes. “If you do not mind me saying this, cousin: there is something different about you. Your eyes seem brighter than before.”

“Master?” Gildor appeared behind Finrod, carrying a small briefcase. Maglor breathed a sigh of relief.

“Aye, thank you, Erenaurel!” Finrod said as he took back the briefcase. “I almost forgot this. It was for another issue your father has been having with my father.”

Maglor’s heart leapt at the sight of Gildor, though a feeling of shyness crept as he peered into his husband’s eyes, taking note of how they too have changed. “I miss you, Mélaurel,” he said in his mind, and Gildor smiled at hearing Maglor’s epessë for him for the first time.

“I miss you too, my Melilaurë,” Gildor replied back, loud and clear in Maglor’s mind, full of the tender love that always accompanied his words.

“I’m getting hungry,” Finrod’s words broke through their silent conversation. “Shall we break the fast?”

The two elves agreed to it and followed him, allowing Finrod to walk in front of them.

“I should have found you again,” Maglor continued in their conversation of thoughts. “I was too distraught over the implications of our actions. I could not fathom the thought of what my father would do upon learning that I had bed a servant. The sheets were a mess, and I feared my servants would grow suspicious.”

“I have heard of your injury,” Gildor responded. “I knew of it before the news spread, for I felt your distress. Did I cause you this much trouble?”

“It is not that I regret the time with you,” Maglor thought. “Nor do I regret our bond.” Though all elves carried the gift of telepathy, the communication was far stronger with the one the elf had bonded to. And Maglor realized this instantly. Hearing Gildor’s voice was as clear as him speaking to his ear. It brought shivers down his spine, and his body hungered for more of his husband’s touch.

“I can feel what is in your heart, you know,” Gildor said in his mind.

“As I can feel your own need,” Maglor replied. “It is cruel we must be apart during this period.”

“But how would we be together and avoid any suspicion?” Gildor thought. “None would think twice upon looking at me, for my status are of no one’s concern.”

“Ai, you prove again why you are luckier than me,” Maglor thought. “Some have already questioned me, including my cousin just now, but all I can do is avoid their questions as best as I can.”

“Why are you both quiet?” Finrod asked, turning around briefly to smile at them. “You two must be famished. Come!” He led them into the halls where the smell of food was thick in the air. They ate in silence, and though Maglor was hungry, the food held no taste on his tongue. Just the presence of Gildor nearby brought such sorrow in his heart he wanted to scream. Just to kiss him and to hold his hand…he needed nothing less. And when Gildor glanced up, Maglor saw the same sorrow and longing.

“When my cousin sleeps, come to my room,” Maglor said in his mind. “Call me in your mind, and I will open the door for you.” His only reply was seeing a flicker in Gildor’s silvery eyes, but it was clear enough answer. His smile was great to Maglor and he broke the silence with a joke, and before long the tension had subsided as the three friends fell into carefree talk.

Maglor waited anxiously in his rooms afterwards, though Gildor sent him several messages to calm him. When it seemed Finrod would never fall into sleep, he finally heard Gildor’s voice in his mind: a whispered, “I am here, Melilaurë.”

Maglor rushed to the door, and without any greeting, he pulled Gildor inside and locked the door behind him.

“Well, good day to you too,” Gildor said, chuckling.

“I am sorry, I cannot risk anything,” Maglor said as he leaned back on the door. “You are far too precious for me to lose.” Their eyes met, and in the silence there was a surge of energy. Suddenly Maglor lunged at him, pressing their lips together firmly. Finally able to feel Gildor his bondmate and love pressed against himself, Maglor moaned softly, begging for more of Gildor’s touch.

“Ai, but we cannot make a mess again,” Maglor said softly as his robes were unbuttoned.

“I am a servant, you forget,” Gildor said. “I could wash the sheets afterwards.”

“You are my husband, not my servant!” Maglor whined. “And what if my cousin sees you and questions you?” He pulled away from their embrace. “The washroom. Please. Our secret can remain in there, washed away.”

“But it is cold!” Gildor said, but he allowed himself to be led inside. After helping Maglor off his robes, he suddenly gripped him about the waist and led him to the marble step where one sat as they bathed. It extended from the wall a few feet, allowing for comfort as one bathed. The hose and bucket of water was nearby.

“What are you doing?” Maglor asked as Gildor slid off his robes before Maglor, taking care to slowly reveal his body. He gently laid Maglor on his back, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the marble slab. He got on his knees before Maglor.

“Comfort, beloved,” Gildor said before sliding down and taking Maglor’s cock into his mouth. A few careful licks, and Maglor was stretched out, grinning, on the slab, feeling one long finger enter him as Gildor’s tongue drove him into a state of bliss.

They spent much time exploring and tasting one another’s bodies. Though both had climaxed repeatedly, still they found themselves seeking more of the other’s touch. This both amused and frustrated them.

“How much longer will our bodies hunger of this before it wanes?” Maglor said, moaning into Gildor’s chest as they rubbed their shafts together.

“It will not be for some time yet,” Gildor said, amused. “It is in the science of elven bodies to seek as much intimacy for the production of elflings early on.”

“But neither of us are female!”

“Our bodies do not know that! And it seems they are trying to make up for the time lost since our bonding night.”

Maglor groaned loudly. “I am getting tired.”

“Of me?”

“Of course not, silly elf!” Maglor playfully bit Gildor’s ear lobe and nuzzled against him. “I wish to simply hold you. My body is tiring of this activity.”

It was Gildor’s turn to nuzzle against him. “We will, promise. Do you wish to stop right now or continue this?”

“One part of me would hate me for stopping, but the rest of me has indeed grown weary,” Maglor said softly.

Gildor nodded and helped his husband settle on the floor. As he washed him, Maglor felt himself slipping in and out of sleep. It did not seem he slept for long, though, and he was surprised when he opened his eyes and found himself tucked into his bed.

“Did I wake you?” Gildor questioned in a whisper. Maglor looked around himself, blinking off the sleep from his eyes.

“Did I fall asleep while you bathed me?” Maglor asked.

Gildor nodded. “You were not joking when you said your body tired.”

“Only you could make me feel this way,” Maglor said, smiling to himself. He snuggled closer, letting their bodies press together. How he wished to remain like this for eternity, warm and safe and content, next to Gildor whom his heart and soul was bound to.

The world faded in and out again for him. No words were spoken between them, for the words exchanged in their hearts was enough, lulling Maglor back to sleep. Many happy dreams he had, of merry life back in Tirion, with Gildor and he, blessed under his father and mother, the green plains and the bright light of the Two Trees. The euphoria of his dream faded only when he became aware of Gildor’s absence, and he opened his eyes at the same time that the entrance door to his rooms shut. The feeling of loneliness seeped in, the same sadness of his first day at Formenos. He openly wept.

Finding no reason to continue resting, he finally slipped out of bed and got dressed. He sought for the company in the music room, but he could not shake off the sorrow. Finally after drying his eyes he left his rooms, seeking for company. By chance he saw Finrod exiting from the room where Fëanor commonly held his meetings.

“Finlaurë!” Maglor called out with as much joy as he could muster.

Finrod glanced up at him with forlorn.

“Ai…what has happened, cousin?”

“My hope to spend the rest of the year near you has been destroyed!” Finrod cried out.

All the air seemed to leave Maglor. “What has happened?”

“To Tírion I must go with your father and the exile King to meet with Lord Ñolofinwë!”

Maglor struggled with whether to feel relieved or disappointed. He had feared somehow his secret with Gildor had been revealed, but he was uncertain how to take this news either.

“Surely, it will not be for long,” Maglor said. “You will return soon, I hope?”

“I doubt that,” Finrod said. “Our dear uncle, who hadn’t even bothered to come to Formenos for his nephew’s wedding, is requesting we fix this problem about the circlet as soon as we could. How long will this take? Well, you know how he can be.”

“And my father is allowed to return there?” Maglor said, stunned.

“Just for this trip. He will be under watch at all times.” Finrod grabbed Maglor’s arm, motioning for them to move away. “He feels humiliated to go and be treated like this. He doesn’t show it, but everyone knows how he truly feels about all this. It took a long time for my father to calm him. Findekano tried to as well, but you can imagine how that turned out.”

“Lucky I have one uncle who is unbiased in all this,” Maglor said. He sighed. “And what of my brother and our cousin Findekáno? Are they going as well?”

“They are coming, of course, being the eldest in their house,” Finrod said. “Hopefully Lord Fëanáro will not pulverize our cousin Findekáno before we reach it. He’s been more quiet than usual; he meant well, but you know how sometimes his words come out wrong. But at least King Finwë is coming along.”

“It seems everyone is leaving!”

“Only the ones I have just mentioned. And some of our servants, so Elenaurel will be with me.”

Maglor felt his heart sink as his suspicion was confirmed, and he wished his stubborn uncle would change his mind regarding their visit.

“I will miss everyone,” Maglor said. “May your journey be short and your labors minimal.”

“You have no idea how much I hope for this as well,” Finrod said.

A period of silence followed before Maglor spoke up again. “And when will you be leaving?”

“But the next blossom of Laurelin,” Finrod said.

Maglor froze, silently cursing his luck. “But that is too soon!”

Finrod sighed. “I know.”